


Tea for Two  (The Feelings are Complimentary)

by ReaverOfHearts



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Female My Unit | Byleth, Gen, Post-Time Skip, just!!! tea time fun, this is mostly an Attempt to get into their headspaces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 17:36:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20661107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaverOfHearts/pseuds/ReaverOfHearts
Summary: Despite the chaos of their lives, every once in a while, it's nice to have tea. Even more so with someone you trust at your side.





	Tea for Two  (The Feelings are Complimentary)

“Felix Hugo Fraldarius,” Byleth says with mock seriousness over her cup of tea, mirth in her eyes as she catches him start, then peer (glower) at her in what she recognizes as harmless curiosity. “_ What _ are you doing with your hair?” 

That he doesn’t just get up and walk away in a huff right there is a testament to how much their friendship has grown. But _ The Deal _ also holds him back. No tea time, no sparring. Not that she could really deny him that, she knows, and she knows _ he _ knows that too. She finds just as much joy and interest in their matches as he does, doubly so since his win against her. Yet she knows, and he knows _ she _knows, that he likes this quiet time too. So they prod it no further than that. 

But she’s learned to like pressing a button or two. The mirth doesn’t leave her eyes as he answers, tone sharp, “With everything going on, _ that’s _ the question you ask? Ridiculous. What’s it matter to you anyway?” 

She doesn’t have the background with him that Sylvain and Ingrid and—Dimitri have. But she likes to think she’s learned him well enough even so. Felix, she suspects, will always be sharp edges, a sharper tongue, but he is an accumulation of everything both wonderful and frustrating about it.

“Curiosity,” she supplies, grabbing a nearby biscuit to nibble it. Felix has had tea with her often enough that she’s made sure to include savory snacks to accommodate his dislike of sweets—and the miniature meat pies go well with the foreign tea from Almyra anyway, she finds. 

“Is that it? I should leave now, if that’s the inane drivel that’s going to come out of your mouth.” _ Sharp _ indeed. But he does not leave, and her amusement does not die. He solidifies the fact that he’s staying by taking one of those very meat pies and biting into it. He’s partly turned away from her, as is normal, and she does not mind it. 

“All I mean is that—I’m not quite sure which direction you wanted the brush to go,” she prods. She did, in fact, like to poke the bear. Or lion, as it was. 

“And I’m not so sure you’ve even _ seen _ a brush, let alone used one,” he returns, always ready to get a word in. And she’s almost offended. Her hair is certainly. Well, fluffy might be a word. She never looks as kempt as Dorothea or even Ferdinand, that’s for sure. She doubts she’d heard of eyebrow trimming until she’d talked to Ferdinand, honestly, but that was a thought for another time. But Felix has that smirk (smile) on his face, so she feigns a pout, more and more expressions entering her repertoire everyday. She’s pretty sure she’d learned it from Hilda.

“Now, if you’re _ done, _permit me a question,” Felix continues, and by the ease in his shoulders, Byleth thinks he really doesn’t mind the silly banter. So she nods her assent, taking another sip of tea while she waits. 

She finds his gaze on her, and she expects his usual barbs, but she stills as he asks, “What has you so set on Fhirdiad anyway? It isn’t _ your _ home. You know h—” And she hears what he doesn’t say next, that Dimitri had some sense when he brought up Rhea, that for all intents and purposes, Rhea _ should _ be her priority. Byleth knows in her heart that she _ isn’t. _ For what it’s worth, she may well never be. Important yes, but not when weighed against _ this. _For as long as she can, Byleth will not condone the march on Enbarr. Not while Fhirdiad needs their aid. 

“_ Byleth _,” he says firmly, and she knows she’s missed what he said after.

“Yes?” she responds. 

So maybe he did mind, a little. She can see the tension leaking back into him and— _ no _, this was not what she was doing this for. “I’m waiting for an answer,” he bites out. “And don’t give me any of that bleeding heart nonsense. It’s obnoxious. You once told me that you fought for survival, as you may recall.”

_ Where do you see the survival in all this? _

She puts her tea down and for the moment, she is glad the walls do not have ears. But Felix is blunt and honest enough, when he does not see fit to lash out if a topic bothers him. So blunt and honest is what Byleth is in return. 

“You’re correct,” she says, and he cocks his head at her as he waits for her to continue. “Fhirdiad isn’t my home. _ Faerghus _ isn’t my home. As a traveling mercenary, _ home _ was not a concept that weighed heavily on me. I. Like to think I found a home, however.”

“In the monastery?” he supplies, brows knit as he tries to follow her train of thought. 

“The monastery is a kind of home to me, yes. But. I think I found my home in a group of people. Some quiet, some boisterous, some _ decidedly and purposely difficult. _ ” _ One _ in particular lost to himself, but she has seen remnants of the person he once was even now. In the way he called out to her when he thought Randolph would hurt her, she sees a glimpse of the young man she thought she knew. In the way he thanked Rodrigue and called him friend. She thinks of a time when her father had died, and he had sworn that her enemies were his, and she knows that part of him is still alive. She will not leave him. 

“But I would not change that.” She can see the crease on his forehead— _ too touchy-feely _ . Practicality is a language she speaks very well, too. “Rhea is a single person. And marching on Enbarr as we are would mean chaos.” _ Death. _ “Faerghus is not my home, but it is _ yours _ . _ Theirs. _ And it is a Kingdom in need of its king. I do not need to explain the benefits of reclaiming it to you, Felix. I know you’ve thought of them as well.” 

“As if the boar is fit to be leading anyone,” he says, deflecting, and _ there’s _ that wall she’s seen thrown up time and time again where Dimitri is concerned. Felix was the first to warn her of him. The first to put his foot on the ground and snarl that he’s a beast, to her, to Dimitri himself. He was also one of the first to express his concern as if no matter how many times he’d said it, the sight of his warnings coming to fruition still left him scrambling in its wake. 

Felix, she suspects, misses Dimitri as painfully as she does. 

That, she does not say. 

She does not seek to cut herself on his edges. Not when he does not know what to do with them himself. 

Repeating a line she’s heard before, he continues, voice tight and angered, “He’ll get himself killed.”

_ He’ll get all of us killed, _ she hears. 

But she shakes her head, fixes him with a hard stare.

_ Yet here you are. And here I am _, it says. She knows he can read it on her. 

His glower returns. 

“Dimitri will not die.” _ You will not die. The Blue Lions will not die. _ “Not while I remain.”

“..._ You _ are notoriously hard to kill, I’ll grant you that much. A troublesome fly that does not know when to quit” he says, a concession of sorts. She gladly accepts it, and returns her attention to her neglected tea. After a moment, he seems comfortable enough to follow suit. 

“Felix.” His eyes find hers once more. “I’m counting on you in the coming days. There are few people whose judgment I trust more.” Rodrigue and Gilbert had age and experience on their side, but Felix. Felix, she suspects, would outclass them both. 

“Dont’--” he starts.

“‘Butter you up?’” she asks, a smile on her face as she repeats an accusation he often threw at her when they trained together. She can see the half second when he fights between annoyance and amusement. She thinks the annoyance is just a knee-jerk by now. But the praise sets in, and even Felix is known to preen on occasion. 

“You know what, I think I’m going to find a new sparring partner. Goodbye,” Felix says, standing. Both their tea is drained, and where once smiling was so foreign to Byleth, now she finds she’s trying to tame her grin instead. 

“I could recommend Caspar,” she chimes in, watching for only a moment as he starts towards the door before she stands as well. 

“Absolutely not.”

“He’s got the spirit.”

“And no sense for a sword, what good would that do me?” They’re walking together now, Byleth only trailing behind a second as she catches up. 

“Then I’m sorry, that was my only suggestion.”

He only half hides a bark of laughter. “Looks like you and I will be sparring for a while yet,” Byleth continues. 

The sigh he lets out is absolutely an exaggerated one. “I _ suppose _ our current arrangement will have to stay, yes. Seeing as there’s no one suitable to replace you yet, and your _ one _ candidate doesn’t match my needs.”

Alas, poor Caspar. You’ll fight plenty of people yet. 

She almost misses it as he says after a moment more, “Well. Spending time with you is… not bad.” 

Yes. By the bones in her body, the divinity in her veins. She would defend them all to her last. 

  


**Author's Note:**

> I just. I really love these two, and wanted to start delving into little bits of their friendship. I'm new to this scene but!! I'm having fun with it!! There's so much to unpack when it comes to Felix and, motivation willing, I will get to the heart of it.


End file.
